


nothing to worry about

by youcouldmakealife



Series: between the teeth [30]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you seeing anyone, Chapman?” Gallagher asks.</p>
<p>“Stop helping, Gally,” Forster says, not looking up from his phone. “Seriously.”</p>
<p>“Were you trying to set him up too?” Bradley asks.</p>
<p>“Too?” Gallagher asks. “Tell me about too, Matt.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing to worry about

In March they play the Panthers in Sunrise. Jake doesn’t text him that day, the day before that, and David takes his cue. Moving on is probably best when you don’t see the person you’re moving on from. David wouldn’t really know. If it’s easier for Jake that way, that’s fine. It’s not like Jake’s iced him out since they last saw one another, they’ve been texting back and forth, so if Jake doesn’t want to see him, that’s up to Jake. David won’t interfere.

The game’s a quiet one. Half the time they play the Panthers it’s ugly, the other half it’s boring, bad hockey. It’s never a good game. This one isn’t good either, but it’s decent hockey, at least. Still boring, David imagines, for the fans who came out, a strong defensive game, which is generally neither of their strengths, one that stays tied at zero until the final five minutes, when Oleg pots the game winner with an assist from David. With that goal Oleg makes the top ten in goals scored with the Islanders franchise, so at least there’s something good about the game, beyond the win. David wishes it had happened at home, that he could have had the reaction he deserved, but he fishes the puck out of the net for Oleg after, hands it to him on the bench, which immediately gets snatched by the equipment manager, probably so he can mark the pertinent information and stow it away for safekeeping.

“They’re probably going to have a ceremony or something next game,” David says. 

“I hope not,” Oleg says with a scowl. “I would have to dress my daughters up. They hate that.”

“Sorry?” David says. 

Oleg grunts.

“You have a lot of goals,” David says, which is maybe stating the obvious, but Oleg grins at him, knocks his shoulder against David’s.

*

After the game David comes out of the locker room to see Cody Gallagher leaning up against the wall, loose postured, like Jake so often did. David stops short. 

“Move it, Chaps,” he hears, and gets out of the way, still watching Gallagher, wary.

“Yo,” Gallagher says.

“Hi,” David says, cautious. 

“Cody fucking G,” Bradley says, pushing past David, and pulls Gallagher into a complicated looking hug-handshake combination. 

It turns out that Bradley played with Gallagher in Juniors and they’ve kept in touch. Forster and Parent walk by, see Gallagher surrounded by Islanders — David hasn’t gotten far and Oleg was right behind Bradley — and seem to assume he needs rescuing, judging by the way they walk over, wary. 

“This guy,” Gallagher tells them. “This fucking guy. I have stories about this guy.”

“Shut up, Gally,” Bradley says, laughing.

“Yeah, shut up, Gally,” Parent says, half under his breath.

Somehow they wind up at a bar. David doesn’t know how it happened, honestly. He was ready to head off with Oleg once it was established that Bradley was going to stick around to catch up with a friend, but Jake came in soon after -- David doesn’t know if Forster texted him or what, but sometime around when Gallagher and Bradley started talking about relocation, and Parent and Oleg stopped warily eyeing one another, Jake showed up, half out of breath, like he ran there.

In the end he’s sitting in a booth across from the entirety of the Panthers leadership group. Plus Gallagher. A leadership group Jake is the captain of, which David is still a little taken aback by, especially since David’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Oleg, who is the definition of a team captain, especially compared to the Jake David knows. Maybe he’s different with his team. Different when he’s leading the team, to be exact, since David’s played on a team with him before, even if it was just the team at camp, where games didn’t really mean anything at all. If David doesn’t know why he’s there, he has even less of an idea why Oleg is sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, holding a beer with a tight-knuckled grip.

David wonders how many of the Panthers in front of him know about how — know about him and Jake, and he has to stifle a slightly hysterical thought that Bradley might be the only person at this table unaware that Jake and David have a history. Not that Oleg’s confirmed it. Not that David wants Oleg to confirm it. David knows Forster knows some of it, at least. He can’t manage to meet Forster’s eye.

“Are you seeing that girl still?” Gallagher asks, out of the blue. He’s been talking to Bradley about something, quiet enough that David can tune it out, but the question is loud enough to carry over the music across the booth.

When he doesn’t get an answer, he presses. “Lourdey?”

David looks up, accidentally catches Jake’s eye, because Jake’s already looking at him. David thinks Jake look guilty, caught. David doesn’t know why. Jake had already said that he was moving on, and that’s the definition of it.

David looks back down, rubs his thumb over the condensation on his glass.

“Jakey,” Gallagher says impatiently. “Questions are for answering, dude.”

“Shut up, Cody,” Jake snaps, and Gallagher goes quiet.

“I am going to get more drinks,” Oleg says. “David, Matt, help me carry them.”

“The waitress—” David starts.

“David,” Oleg says, in a tone that means it isn’t a request. 

Oleg has to pay at the bar. They could have waited for the waitress, or at least asked the bartender to make the drinks and have the waitress bring them back, but Oleg shows no sign of moving once he’s ordered, and starts discussing a missed call in the second with Bradley, who was the on the receiving end of a pretty dirty hit, thankfully not from anyone sitting at the table.

When they return to the Panthers, drinks in hand despite the fact no one’s glass has been drained, it’s quiet. Parent and Forster are both on their phones, and Gallagher’s got his arms crossed, a frown on his face. “B Dad,” he says, too loud, once Bradley sits across from him. “Do you remember that shit with Anthony?”

Bradley starts laughing, which David supposes is a yes to whatever the question referred to, and then they start talking about some incident David doesn’t pay attention to. Jake’s got his head ducked, fiddling with an empty straw wrapper. His hair’s getting long again, or long enough that it’s started to fall into his eyes.

David wonders who Jake’s seeing. If he’s still seeing her, because Jake didn’t answer Gallagher’s question. Which probably means he is, and he didn’t want to say so in front of David. Whether she’s pretty. She hasn’t been on any of the blogs that latch onto that sort of thing, as far as David’s aware, though it isn’t like he makes a habit of checking them. She probably is pretty. Jake dates pretty girls — _pretty boy_ , David thinks, and shoves it down before he tries to remember every single member of that year’s Team USA, tries to decide who it was that called him that, who might still call him that in their heads, to their teammates.

Jake goes to the washroom soon after, excuses himself with a mumble David hardly catches, and David suddenly feels outnumbered. It’s a foolish feeling — the Isles at the table were outnumbered until Jake left. If anything, David should feel less outnumbered than before, not more. 

“Are you seeing anyone, Chapman?” Gallagher asks.

“Stop helping, Gally,” Forster says, not looking up from his phone. “Seriously.”

“Were you trying to set him up too?” Bradley asks.

“Too?” Gallagher asks. “Tell me about too, Matt.”

“Do you want to go?” Oleg asks, low enough that David is the only one that hears him.

“Bradley doesn’t, and it’d be rude to leave him,” David says, in lieu of a yes.

“I don’t care,” Oleg says. “Do you?”

“After Lourdes gets back,” David says. He doesn’t necessarily owe Jake a goodbye — Jake didn’t personally invite him, it was the confluence of Gallagher and Bradley, and they haven’t said anything to one another all night, but it feels rude to leave without a goodbye. Rude in a way that he’s not comfortable with, unlike potentially leaving Bradley with the Panthers, since he seems perfectly comfortable reminiscing with Gallagher.

When Jake returns Oleg doesn’t say anything for a full minute. David keeps trying to catch his eye, wondering if Oleg changed his mind, or if he expects David to say it. David doesn’t want to.

“I am going to go,” Oleg says, finally, which means David doesn’t have to be the one to bring it up, but he still has to agree.

“I’ll come with you,” David says.

“I—” Bradley starts.

“You stay, catch up with friend,” Oleg says. “Curfew is hours away.”

“Thanks,” Bradley says.

“Can I talk to you, David?” Jake says.

“I am waiting outside,” Oleg says, with a bit of an eye roll David hopes no one else saw.

“Okay,” David says.

Gallagher’s grinning wide, when David scoots past Bradley out of the booth. Maybe David and Oleg were intruding on the catching up, maybe Gallagher has some unflattering stories about Bradley he’d hesitate to say in front of Bradley’s captain, but not in front of Gallagher’s own teammates. David knows a lot of the guys talk a little differently around Oleg than they do when he’s not there, and David doesn’t think that just applies to the Islanders. David follows Jake to a relatively quiet corner of the bar. Jake looks uncomfortable, which is making David feel uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry about what Gallagher said,” Jake says. “He was being a dick.”

David wonders when Jake was told that Gallagher was asking whether David was seeing someone, since David hasn’t left the table, then realises that Jake means Gallagher’s question.

“Why would you be sorry?” David asks. “Was he making it up or something?”

Jake frowns. “No,” he says, finally. 

David doesn’t even know why he asked that, why he would assume that. Why would Gallagher make something like that up?

“So don’t be sorry,” David says.

“He shouldn’t have said anything,” Jake says.

“Why not?” David asks. “I mean. You said you were trying to move on, so. That’s moving on, right?”

“David,” Jake says, quiet.

“I’m just—” David starts. “Kurmazov’s waiting for me.”

“Right,” Jake says. “Of course.”

David doesn’t move right away. He’s not sure why. Jake takes an aborted step forward, says, “Can I—”, laughs self-consciously.

“Can you what?” David asks.

Jake shakes his head. “Never mind,” he says. “Kurmazov’s waiting, right?”

“Yeah,” David says. Reaches out, after a moment, fingers brushing Jake’s wrist. “I’ll see you.”

Jake reaches up as David pulls his hand back, and their fingers tangle, separate. “Yeah,” Jake says. “Keep kicking ass, eh?”

“I’ll try,” David says.

Oleg’s outside, as promised. “Finally,” he says. “It is boiling out.”

It’s maybe twenty-five degrees, but after a New York March, it is a little hard to adjust to. “Sorry,” David says. “Haven’t seen a cab?”

“I called one,” Oleg says. “You okay?”

“Sure,” David says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Oleg looks like he wants to roll his eyes again, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything, either, which David is thankful for, gets a call from — someone — David doesn’t know enough Russian to be able to tell, and stays on the phone for the ride back to the hotel.

Once they reach their floor — Oleg off the phone, either because his conversation was over or because elevators tend to drop the signal, David still can’t tell — he says good night with a squeeze to David’s shoulder, rare contact for him off the ice. David’s tempted to ask why he came, then. He doesn’t, in the end.

“I didn’t know you were such good friends with Jake Lourdes,” Bradley says to him on the flight home, over a sleeping Oleg.

David shrugs. “We’ve trained together,” he says, finally.

“Still waters run deep,” Bradley says. 

Oleg snorts audibly. David guesses he isn’t actually asleep, then.

“Apparently,” David says. “So you played with Gallagher?” he asks, to change the subject, and spends the rest of the flight stuck listening to stories about the WHL.

“You are getting better at that,” Oleg tells him, when everyone’s parting ways at the airport.

“Getting better at what?” David asks.

“Exactly,” Oleg says, like that’s any answer at all, and David’s still confused when he gets to the taxi stand.

_are russians always enigmatic?_ David sends Kiro.

_no duh_ Kiro returns He has all these horrible phrases in his vocabulary, talks like a teenage girl, or a teenage girl ten years ago. David thinks the Penguins are fucking with him. He’s not sure how to say so. _like me. i am very enigmatic._

_No you aren’t_ , David texts.

_> :(_ Kiro immediately texts back. _what did Kurmazov say?_

_Who said I was talking about Kurmazov?_ David replies.

_russian intuition_ , Kiro returns. 

David snorts. _I have no idea. That I’m getting better at something._

_get any better and you win all the awards!!! i will be your date ;)_ Kiro responds.

_I’m pretty sure that’s not what he meant_ , David responds.

_that wasn’t a no to the date!!!_ Kiro replies. David’s still smiling when he receives a text from Jake, _gud to c u last night, still sry abt gally_ , and it’s only then his smile fades.

_Nothing to be sorry about_ , he responds as the cab pulls in front of his building, because there isn’t. Jake said he was moving on, and he has, and that’s good. That’s just fine.


End file.
